By Mrs. Jenkins, February 21, 2019 — My, husband, Fay, was honest as the day is long, but happy. He would help anybody with anything. He enjoyed that more, I think. If he could help somebody, it was his greatest time.
The story of how we met was sort of a silly story. I was walking down the street on a Sunday afternoon. I lived on the west side of town, and my best girl-friend lived on the east end of town. We’d meet and fiddle around before church time. I had started to town, and he passed in the car and gave a “wolf” whistle. I thought that was so rude! And I turned my head and started walking real fast to get away. And anyway for the next three or four days anywhere I went it seemed like there he was. He just showed up. He told two or three of my friends, “You stay away from her. That’s my girl! That’s gonna be my girl.” And I sarcastically thought, “Yeah, my girl…”
On my wedding day, I remember how thrilled I was about finding what I wanted to wear, and it was an off-white suit. We had to climb a mountain, it seemed like, but it was a good life.
We were married 48 years. 48 good years. He passed away, and I’ve never been the same since then. We were married and had three children, and then there’s several generations of us now. I’ve got children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, so that’s precious times.
